James Grippando - The Abduction

Maybe, she thought, the photographer could bring matters into focus.

She turned and looked back to the grassy patch on the embankment where he’d been standing. He was gone. She looked down the riverbank, then toward the bridge. No sign of him. Anywhere.

An FBI agent passed by.

“Have you seen a photographer?” she asked. “Short guy. Long red hair. Bald on top.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Ms. Leahy. You want us to look for him?”

“No, that’s not necessary.”

She turned toward the river, mulling over her thoughts. Who the heck was that weird-looking guy? And just what did he intend to do with the pictures he’d taken?

The disappearance and likely abduction of Kristen Howe was the lead story on the Tuesday evening national news. The FBI had reportedly ruled out nothing at this point, including the possibility that she’d been abducted by her own bus driver, who, along with the middle school van, was also still missing.

Lincoln Howe watched the evening network news from the backseat of his limousine while en route from the Nashville International Airport. After reporting what little information that had actually been confirmed, the broadcast segued into “news analysis,” which amounted to nothing more than wild speculation about the possible political ramifications of the abduction. Lincoln watched intently as a stoic young female correspondent reported from outside the Wharton Middle School in Nashville.

“While no one has claimed responsibility,” she reported, “the public perception so far seems to be that the most likely culprits are political extremists who want to keep Lincoln Howe from becoming president. That perception, combined with a nationwide outpouring of sympathy for the Howe family, has already propelled General Howe anywhere from five to seven points ahead of Attorney General Leahy in the latest polls, with the election just one week from today.”

Howe switched off the television. Never had he reacted so flatly to news of his own political momentum.

The limo slowed as it reached a redbrick house with a mansard roof. At least a dozen media vans were parked across the street, each with a different logo-EYEWITNESS NEWS, ACTION NEWS, and others. Wires and cables crisscrossed the normally quiet street. Television reporters primped and reviewed their notes in preparation for live broadcasts on the late news. Cameramen toting heavy equipment on their shoulders paced the sidewalk, searching for the best view of the house.

Lincoln peered out of the limo. The name HOWE on the mailbox brought a lump to his throat. Tonight marked his first visit to his daughter’s home.

Lincoln had seen very little of Tanya Howe since she’d dropped out of college thirteen years ago to give birth to Kristen. She had since earned a bachelor’s degree at night school, and she now taught art history at the community college. Most of what Lincoln knew about her adult life had come through his wife. Despite the differences between father and daughter, Natalie had remained close to her. She had been at Tanya’s side since noon today, with the first reports of Kristen’s disappearance.

The media encircled the limousine in the driveway. Three Secret Service agents pushed the mob back to the street. General Howe emerged without ceremony and headed up the walkway to the front door. His wife Natalie answered. She was incredibly calm with a stiff expression, but Lincoln knew she was just trying to be strong in front of their daughter. She led him straight to the dining room, where Tanya was seated at the table. Two FBI agents sat across from her, one taking notes as she spoke. The conversation stopped as General Howe and his wife appeared in the doorway.

Tanya was blessed with her mother’s looks and her father’s brain. Her sparkling eyes normally lit up the room. Tonight, Lincoln noted, they were puffy and red. Her hand clenched a wadded tissue.

She glanced at the FBI. “Excuse me a moment, please.”

They gathered their notes and disappeared into the kitchen. Natalie followed. Lincoln laid his trench coat aside and closed the pocket door between the kitchen and dining room, giving them privacy. He waited for his daughter to rise, feeling the urge to embrace her, despite their past differences. She didn’t move. He took the chair at the far end of the table, away from Tanya.

She stared at him, saying nothing in the dim glow of a brass chandelier. Her face was expressionless, her troubled eyes impassive. Finally she spoke.

“I wondered if you’d come.”

“Of course I would come. You’re my daughter.”

“And Kristen? What is she?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is it still that hard for you to say she’s your granddaughter?”

“Let’s not get into that, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m here for you. Right now, that’s all that matters.”

“Did you wave to the cameras on your way in?”

“That’s not why I came.”

“Exactly why did you come, then? To tell me this is God’s way of punishing me for having a child out of wedlock? Or to tell me if I had listened to you and had an abortion in the first place I never would have gotten myself into this mess?”

He winced and shook his head. “How can you say those things?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t thought those things.”

He blinked, then look away. “I can’t change the past. I know I haven’t been much of a grandfather.”

“You don’t even know Kristen. All she’s ever been to you is an illegitimate political liability.”

“That isn’t true, Tanya. But even if you think those things, we have to put our differences aside now. I know this is the worst thing that could ever happen to a parent, and I understand your anger. Maybe you even blame me for putting our family in the public spotlight.”

“I blame you for putting us at risk. You knew that something like this could happen. But you ran anyway.”

He paused, then spoke in his most sincere tone. “I want you to know I’ll do everything in my power to bring Kristen back.”

“Oh, really?” she said with doubt in her eyes. “What if the kidnappers are genocidal racists who will do anything to keep a black man from being elected president? What if they threaten to kill Kristen unless you withdraw from the race and let your white opponent or your white VP walk into the White House? Would you do that ?”

He struggled. “We can’t just give in to terrorism. I know you don’t want me to do that.”

“Yes.” Her voice shook. “I do want you to do that. I want my daughter back-period. So don’t you dare come into my house and tell me you’ll do whatever it takes to get her back if you don’t mean it.”

“I will do whatever it takes. Within reason.”

“Within reason? What’s more important than the life of an innocent twelve-year-old child?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple.” Her glare tightened. “Mother may have forgiven you for the way you’ve lived your life, but I haven’t. You’ve always made the wrong choices. You chose the military over your wife and children. And you’ll choose the presidency over the life of your own granddaughter. Family first-so long as it doesn’t get in the way of your ambition. It’s your nature, Lincoln Howe. It’s just your nature. ”

He tried to speak, but emotion had hold of his throat. “I-”

She rose from her chair, cutting him off with a wave of her hand. “Please, just leave.” She crossed the room and handed him his coat.

He rose slowly, then stopped before the pocket door, his shoulders slumped. His eyes met hers. “Tanya, I’m truly sorry.”

Her lips quivered. “Tell it to Kristen,” she said, then showed him the door.